Foams frothed folding
the flagrant flames, exploding
into multitudinous grains of sea
as passion fruit extolled the darkened seeds-
secrets secreting juices
as the grip loosens.
Magnolia peels its sleeves,
slipping its leaves,
leaving the xylem open on the eve of discovery;
petals floating to thunderclouds.
Bougainvilleas- too proud- refuse to bow,
instead spread their sequined lobes,
swaying in the strobes of twilight.
Frangipani, crowned in a coronet of caterpillars,
(the cocoons unravel in metamorphosing,
the shell’s seams bursting into butterfly dreams)
imposing the ribbed cloak of green.
Knowledge kneels before your unaccustomed door
in immaculate immolation.
Initiating your buried sensations
pollens disperse upon the tremendous girth
in imitation.
Unable to fill the Lethian void
in your consuming xiphoid,
you encircled chrysanthemums
in your organ’s diploid sanctum.
Crushed in the climax of all maximums
your nipples peak in pleasured postures,
as do the ripples running deep to your treasured pastures
of all origins;
pouring red to all veins,
perfuming sins in seraphic streaks,
echoing refrains.
Copyright © by Akil Thomas
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
HYMN TO THE SUN
When we cough coffins explode-
coronets of cadavers-
as Hope extolled our invite,
too cordial it was
when life struck the hard light
on our shadow’s skin.
Bodies blooming in wounds,
slender canals- our pathways to mushrooms,
boiling squirms
when the moss christened you with ringworm.
Only branches glance the sun
as we grow in murderous multiplication;
another other of the numerals;
blank wood drifting in the funerals’ ribbed pyres.
Sliced seraphs sinking,
floating down like burnt paper-
black petals flowing red to equator.
Sipping sorrow, we are drowned in crooked fires,
nailed to degradation for our national stain-
only skeletons remain entire.
Smiling spent shells, your thorn sprouted doubts,
your company of crosses flung about in caskets.
As you erase your race,
harmony’s homicide leaves no trace.
The skies rain rainbows
while we reign red
in a kaleidoscope of corpses instead.
Lives refused- the refuse of the realm-
the broken borders are hemmed by tissues,
eternal issues of our stabbed pride…
Not wanting a vein,
disowning the claim of pulses,
history forgets
that we are all citizens of death.
Copyright © by Akil Thomas
coronets of cadavers-
as Hope extolled our invite,
too cordial it was
when life struck the hard light
on our shadow’s skin.
Bodies blooming in wounds,
slender canals- our pathways to mushrooms,
boiling squirms
when the moss christened you with ringworm.
Only branches glance the sun
as we grow in murderous multiplication;
another other of the numerals;
blank wood drifting in the funerals’ ribbed pyres.
Sliced seraphs sinking,
floating down like burnt paper-
black petals flowing red to equator.
Sipping sorrow, we are drowned in crooked fires,
nailed to degradation for our national stain-
only skeletons remain entire.
Smiling spent shells, your thorn sprouted doubts,
your company of crosses flung about in caskets.
As you erase your race,
harmony’s homicide leaves no trace.
The skies rain rainbows
while we reign red
in a kaleidoscope of corpses instead.
Lives refused- the refuse of the realm-
the broken borders are hemmed by tissues,
eternal issues of our stabbed pride…
Not wanting a vein,
disowning the claim of pulses,
history forgets
that we are all citizens of death.
Copyright © by Akil Thomas
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